


The Strings of Fate

by BeesAreAwesome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, SPN REverse Bang, Soul Mates AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesAreAwesome/pseuds/BeesAreAwesome
Summary: Season 9 divergent AU where everyone makes a few decisions differently after the Fall.Sam and Dean find that they are connected to heaven in a much larger way than they had ever imagined.Created for the SPN Reverse Bang 2019!Inspired by the beautiful art bysasTMK
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gadreel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	The Strings of Fate

The sky is ablaze with the light of the Falling. The blue of angelic grace contrasts vividly with the orange and red hues of the flames surrounding them—wings burning to cinder and char. The gates to Heaven have forever been shut, the inhabitants expelled, now plummeting to Earth. 

Sam sputters with a choking breath as he watches the stars fade, obscured by the brilliance of the great Fall, and wonders to himself, “how could any survive?” He can hear his brother screaming in the background, but the words are distant and frenzied sounds—an underwater echo that fades in and out. Sam keeps his focus high to the sky as he lies back and lets the lights wash over his being until all is silent and dark. He closes his eyes and sleeps deeply.

\---

Gadreel is dazed. He was in his Heavenly prison one moment, then hurtling toward Earth the next, being pulled away from his solitary home at precisely 9.8 m/s^2, in tune with the Earth’s gravitational pull. His wings flare out to capture the wind, to buffer his Fall. He expects to glide, to soar, to revel in his newfound freedom, but that is the folly of sudden hope. As he stretches out and smiles brightly, his brilliant, white wings catch fire.

A horrible, agonized wail leaves his lips as the pain of Falling envelopes him. Gadreel knows he was to be imprisoned for all eternity, but this seems like such a cruel punishment to add to the millenia of solitude he has already lived through. Perhaps it really is fitting though, for he was the one who let the Snake into the Garden. Should he not suffer the same fate as the first Fallen? 

But then suddenly, Gadreel takes notice that he is not the only Angel to Fall. His panic is subdued, only to be replaced with utter shock. Thousands of Angels are falling all around him. He looks to his left and finds his brother Ezekiel reaching out a hand to him, wings and body all aflame, and tears of sorrow welling up in his eyes. Gadreel extends his arm and clasps hands with his brother—not so much a true clasping of hands, for Angels are pure intent with no Earthly physical form, but a melding of spirits, a comforting embrace as they plummet through the night sky. Ezekiel was the only member of the Host to visit him during his eternal imprisonment, and the only brother he truly cared for any more. It breaks his heart that the kind warrior should share his fate.

An oddity of profound proportions catches Gadreel’s eye. All of those around him, the thousands Falling, have ethereal red strings of light, flickering in and out of existence, leading from their bodies to various places on Earth. The Strings of Fate, as Gadreel knows them, should not be visible in such abundance. Only when the Grace of an Angel is to be forever tied to it’s kindred soul should the strings appear. It seems the entire Host of Heaven are to be united with their lost halves.

It is a distracting enough occurrence that he does not see the ground rush up to meet him. The impact he and Ezekial leave forms a crater twelve meters deep and as many wide. Gadreel shakes himself loose from the earth packed around him, pain flaring up through the core of his being. He leans over to assist Ezekiel, but the other being is silent. Gadreel can see the magnificent glow of his Grace fading away, slowly absorbing into the earth.

Gadreel sinks down and caresses the fading form, inhaling the lingering Grace into his own being. It is by doing this that Gadreel may let a part of Ezekiel live on forever through him. 

Gadreel weeps. 

Now that he has found himself free and on Earth, Heaven barred to him forever, Gadreel thinks it is due time to atone for his sin. But to do so, he must find a worthy vessel. With sadness for his lost brethren, for surely there are others that met the same fate as Ezekiel, Gadreel flitters away on the wind, seeking out a good and welcome host in which he may reside.

\---

Gadreel does not have to look long. He finds a man praying—a good night prayer that so few in this modern age still hold to. The man’s faith is a good sign; a sign that he may be worthy to hold the essence of the celestial intent, that he may withstand the glory of Heavenly light entering his body. It had been over three hundred thousand years since Gadreel had left his prison, but the million years he had walked among the early hominins—those that God had not yet seen fit to gift with the Garden, for it was the first evolved sapiens that He had transported to Eden—had left him with the knowledge that not all creatures could survive such a melding of essence. 

Gadreel tenderly reaches out to the man, still kneeling by his bedside, hands clasped together in prayer. When Gadreel whispers to him, the man blinks rapidly, a look of awe covers his face, and tears of joy slide down his smooth cheeks. “Yes”.

\---

It is the following day that Gadreel hears the fervent prayers of a man. Since his Fall, he has heard many of the Earth beings whisper out for guidance, but none so fierce and loud and from deep down in the core of their souls. This is a prayer of profound need, a prayer from someone who not only believes, but has seen the Truth. Gadreel feels the tug—the emergency—and immediately flees towards the plea. 

He tries to fly but his wings will not cooperate. They are ashen, boney things. The flight feathers are naught but cindering stumps, useless and aching. And so he steals a bus. Gadreel knows this is wrong, but when he hears the name ... _this is Dean Winchester..._ he knows he must get there first. Dean is a wanted man, and Gadreel’s brethren would surely try to harm him. Even locked away in Heaven’s prison, he still heard the deeds and doings of the Winchesters and knows he must be quick if he is to help save them.

He finds himself at Glenwood Memorial Hospital. He sees Dean being held down by one of his brethren, being threatened and tormented. It makes Gadreel want to weep for how lost the Angel has become. This is not the way. He moves in to help the human man. He can still feel the waves of desperation spilling from his heart and knows he will find purpose here.

“He grasps the Angel’s wrist as he speaks, “Easy there brother. This young man has prayed for our assistance. Are we creatures of wrath, or compassion? I would argue the latter.”

“Forgive me brother, I don’t recognize you.” For a moment Gadreel is filled with hope and love, for his brother seems to be calming.

“Happy to make your acquaintance...After you disarm.” The Angel holds up his hands, then throws a punch. Gadreel is quite taken by surprise by the scuffle. Is this what has become of the Celestial Host? Trading blows like some tavern brawlers?

“Come now! Is that any way to treat a brother injured in the Fall?” He would like nothing more than to reason with the Angel, but his brother continues to attack. It does not last long, for Dean has taken a fallen angel blade and ends the violence with a thrust through his brother’s heart.

Gadreel blinks up at Dean with tears in his eyes. He is not surprised that the man is distrustful, but the harshness in his voice is still surprising. He feels lightheaded, a new and strange—and very mortal—sensation.

“Who are you?”

“Nevermind me. You are Dean Winchester. I heard your prayer, and I am here to help.” Gadreel must be in shock still, from the Fall or from seeing his brother slain, he knows not. But it is enough that he loses consciousness for a time. 

When he awakes he is in the center of a circle of fire. Holy fire. He is immediately saddened that his brethren have done such things to Dean Winchester as to make him so distrustful. He will have to reason with the young man if he is to be set free. He wishes only to help.

Dean is looming over him from the other side of the flames. “You want to help? Start with a name.”

It is not likely that Dean would know who Gadreel is or what his crime against Heaven was, but he panics in that moment. Before he knows what he is saying, he is introducing himself as Ezekiel, his brother who perished in the Fall. 

“Alright, Ezekiel. How do I know you are not hunting me or Castiel like the other Angels?”

“Oh, I am sure there are many Angel’s who are, many more are on their way here most likely.”

“How do you know that?”

“You put out an open prayer like that…”

“I must really be desperate.” 

They share a look for a moment, and Gadreel can see the open pain on his face. He softens his vessel’s voice as he replies. 

“Believe it or not, some of us still do believe in our mission. And that means we believe in Castiel. And You. “

Dean looks uncomfortable. It is sad that a human with so much responsibility placed on their shoulders should shy away from praise and kindness. Dean changes the subject. “You said you were hurt during the fall.”

Gadreel nods and looks away. “I was. And tangling with my brother back there did me no favours.” He again finds Dean’s eyes, sad and desperate. “But what strength I have left, I offer to you.”

And that seems to be enough. He is taken to Sam. He again notices the flickering light on his finger. The pulse grows stronger the closer they get, until he is standing before Sam, asleep in his hospital bed, the String of Fate tying their hands together as surely as anything he has seen.

He meets Dean’s eyes which have become wide and questioning, grass green orbs darting between Gadreel and Sam’s hands, then down to his own where a red light is weakly sputtering in and out of existence and leading off into the distance. Gadreel is not sure he has time to explain for he now feels the weight of urgency even more keenly. Sam is his lost half and Gadreel now knows there is nothing more important to him than healing the young man. 

He can only hope that whoever Dean is attached to is still well after the fall. It is disconcerting to see such a weak light, and it surely does not bode well for his brother, whoever they may be.

—

Before he can speak, Dean’s phone rings and he leaves the room. Gadreel lays his hands on Sam’s forehead guiding his Grace to heal the affliction. He staves off some of the worst of it, but the illness is not one caused by mortal means and so his injured Grace is not enough to ensure Sam will walk away from this alive and well. Gadreel will have to come up with a way to heal Sam from within.

Before he can confer with Dean about the best options, Angels target the hospital. It is very upsetting to Gadreel to know how single minded his brethren have become in their vengeance. There are so many things he feels he must weep for since he Fell, and it has barely been two days. 

When Dean re-enters the room, he paints sigils on the wall—Angelic warding to hold the angry Host at bay. The symbols weaken Gadreel even more than he already is and he is not sure that he can protect the Winchesters in the state he is in. Dean runs into the hallway and into the fray. Gadreel can hear the glass shattering as his brethren speak with their True Voice, looking for vessels. He places his hands back on Sam, guiding more of his Grace to heal. They must leave, but in Sam’s condition, he will not survive.

It is still not enough. The machines start pinging out a warning bell as Sam’s stats take a turn for the worse. Gadreel sends his consciousness into Sam’s mind to see where the problems are focused. Sam is speaking cordially with Death and seems to have made a decision. 

When Dean re-enters the room he is covered in blood and bruising, but he ignores his own pain to seek after Sam’s wellness.

“What’s happening?! We had a deal. I fight, you heal!”

Gadreel shakes his head. The wardings have him too weak, he is barely able to catch his breath. “I haven’t the strength. There aren’t any options. Not any good ones.” He feels an overwhelming sadness. Heaven is locked. If Sam perishes, he will be forced to wander the Earth as an angry spirit, never at rest, never at peace. And Death knows this, yet he is still seeking to guide Sam into the ether.

Dean isn’t letting it go, not without a fight. “Well, what are the bad options?”

Gadreel sucks in a breath of air and looks Dean in the eye. “I cannot promise, but there is a chance I can fix your brother. From the inside.”

Dean looks confused and mildly horrified. “From the inside… So. So what? You gotta open him up?”

Gadreel shakes his head. He maintains eye contact with Dean, willing him to understand.

A look of knowing overcomes the young man’s face and the horrified expression turns to shock. “What, possession?! You want to possess Sam? No way.”

Dean begins pacing and Gadreel can only let him take a moment to weigh the options. “It’s your call.”

Dean stops to shoot a look at Gadreel. One that speaks of a lifetime of mistrust and manipulation. “No, it’s Sam’s call. There’s no way in Hell he’d agree to be possessed by anything…”

As a being who has spent their entire existence feeling misunderstood, he can relate more than he wishes to admit. He does not want to lose Sam before he has had a chance to reconnect with his lost half, but it is ultimately up to the brothers, not him, to decide their own fates. 

“He would rather die.” Gadreel looks to his shoes before looking back to Dean. “I’ll leave you two alone, then.” Gadreel makes to stand and head for the door, but Dean interrupts.

“Wait… If we do this… You gotta show me how bad it is.” The desperation is back on Dean’s face and saturates his voice. 

With a gesture to come closer, Gadreel places a hand on Sam’s forehead, and one on Dean’s, showing him a brief glimpse of Sam’s conversation with Death. It only takes a moment for Dean to agree.

“But Sam will never say yes to you…”

The remark stings Gadreel for a moment, but he understands. Sam knows nothing of the strings tying them together, but he knows his brother. And so Gadreel enters Sams mind in the guise of Dean, imploring him to keep trying and to let him in.

Sam says yes.

—-

Sam remains unconscious the next day, so Gadreel takes the opportunity to speak with Dean. He knows the man must have a lot of questions, and Gadreel will do the best to answer them with all the honesty he can. He feels poorly for the ruse, but keeps his true name to himself for the time and makes a promise to himself that it will be the only falsehood to ever leave his lips. 

When they enter Dean’s car, he turns his head to look at Gadreel as he places the key in the ignition. “How’s Sammy doing in there?”

“He will live, but he is still gravely injured. I do not expect him to regain consciousness for some time yet. I will need to retreat soon to focus all my attention on healing him, but for now I can answer any questions you may have.” Gadreel motions his head to the flickering lights encircling both of their fingers, Dean’s leading weakly off into the horizon. 

“Yeah, about that. These things showed up right as all the Angels started falling…” Dean doesn’t ask any questions, but it seems he doesn’t know where to begin. As Dean turns the key and the car revs to life, Gadreel speaks openly of the origins of light. 

—-

Gadreel’s story:

_Angels are not whole, but they once were._

_When God created the world, he also created guardians. Beings of pure light and love who lived only to serve and wished only to protect the marvelous things God had made._

_God had also created the world to flourish, to thrive of its own accord. To adapt and evolve. And so, the first hominids eventually stood up straight and began painting their stories on the walls of caves, adapted to communicate, and created language. These creatures again evolved into something special. Something capable of advanced abstract thought. They named themselves Human._

_God took the first truly evolved Humans and let them rest in the most wonderful Garden known in His creation and called the creatures Adam and Eve. God graced them with life eternal, but also wished to allow them their own free will. “If you eat of this tree, you will have all of the knowledge of good and evil—but it will leave a taint on you. You will surely perish, grow old and wither until there is naught but earth and dust. This is the price you must pay for knowledge.” And so it was in their hands. But Adam and Eve had no use for the tree of knowledge, for they were already living in eternal bliss. They needed only God’s love and His most glorious Garden. God was pleased, for he did not wish his perfect creations to wither to dust._

_This is what he had striven to accomplish, though much trial and error occurred throughout the aeons. And so he spoke to his Angels, the beings of pure light and love, and told them to protect the humans and their progeny above all else. This was their new mission._

_But some of the Angels grew jealous._

_Until the Humans,_ Angels _were the perfect creations. Now, no longer perfect, they let their imperfections flourish. Now, mind you, not all Angels felt this tug of rebellion. And so there was a civil war in Heaven, the rebels led by the most jealous Angel of all—the one named for the dawn and of the morning stars—and also my closest companion._

_Lucifer was once placed on a pedestal. God told His other Angels to look to him for all things to strive for; obedience, love and beauty. Having that taken away, having the perfection stolen from his name and given to the Humans caused the Prince of Dawn to rebel. At first it was only questions. But God was not used to being questioned, and so shut down Lucifer’s pleas to elevate Angels once again._

_The heartbroken Lucifer began to sow the seeds of dissent. He could not live in a world where he did not have the entirety of God’s love. He could not share it; not with Humans._

_The war was long and bloody with many casualties on both sides. But in the end, those who opposed Lucifer’s rebellion won the day. Lucifer was cast down to Hell, to be trapped in a cage for all eternity with only his own sorrow for companionship. Those who followed him were also cast down, guardians of Hell._

_Those of us who remained were also punished, for God would not see further rebellion brought against his most perfect creations. And so as a precaution, God split all remaining Angels in two. Our lost halves were to be born and reborn again throughout the ages on Earth as humans. We were now even more devoted to protecting them at all costs, for amongst the humans were our lost selves._

Dean interrupts. “So these little red lights,” he wiggles his fingers around his grip on the steering wheel, “mean I used to be an Angel?” Dean doesn’t look entirely pleased at the notion, and Gadreel cannot blame him. Even though imprisoned, he could still hear all the ill his brethren had bestowed upon the Winchesters. 

Gadreel inclines his head. “You know the old adage, _you cannot hide from yourself_.”

Dean spends the next several moments deep in thought. “So, you and Sammy.” Gadreel nods again in response. “He—he was a part of your Grace? Like, in the beginning?”

“That is correct. It has been three hundred thousand years since I have been split in two; incomplete. Now that I know what is at stake, I am even more dedicated to helping you and your brother overcome the taint the Trials have left behind.”

“So what happens. Do the two of you have to become the same person again?” Dean’s eyes become frantic and he takes them off the road to scowl deeply at Gadreel. “You’re not staying inside my brother! We had a deal. You heal him then get the Hell out!”

“Calm yourself, Dean. I have no intentions of possessing your brother any longer than necessary to keep him alive… But, I do not know how it works. I believe the finding in and of itself may be enough. I began to feel whole before I ever entered your brother.”

Dean contemplates for several more minutes, his mouth working open and closed with no sound, until he finally asks, “Do you know who this is connected to?” He lifts his own hand from the wheel and darts his eyes to the barely there, weakly fluttering light around his finger—the ghost of a thread flickering in and out leading off to the distance.

“I am sorry, but that is something I do not know. But when Sam is well, I would be happy to help you find them.”

Dean shakes his head. “I dunno. I don’t think I want to have anything to do with it.” There are so few that he trusts and it is obvious to Gadreel that the trust issues outweigh his curiosity in the matter. Gadreel lets it drop.

“Unless you have further questions, I must retreat and rest. When this body awakes again, it will be Sam. I implore you, for the time, do not mention me to him.”

Dean looks over to Gadreel. “I don’t know, Zeke. We’ve always kept secrets and it never got us anywhere good. He has a right to know he’s got an Angel riding shotgun.”

“My place inside this vessel is tenuous, and he may expel me at any time he chooses. And doing so before he is ready may kill him. Please, Dean.”

Dean looks utterly defeated and Gadreel wishes there was some way to comfort the young man, but he knows it is not his place to offer the sorts of comforts that may ease him. And so he remains silent while he awaits Dean’s answer.

“Shit shit shit. OK, fine. We keep it a secret. For now! If I find some way to let him know without him expelling you, I’m taking it.” His green eyes have a hint of steel as he glares. 

“Thank you.”

And so Gadreel retreats and Sam sleeps, still in his coma. He puts all of his energy into both healing himself and Sam at the same time. It is much simpler to do than if he were helping anyone else this way, for Sam truly is a part of himself and his soul recognizes Gadreel’s Grace as something precious to it.

Now, it is but a waiting game.

—-

Sam wakes up several hours later and has a discussion with Dean. Gadreel does not pay too close attention to it and spends his time healing. He only lets a part of his Grace trickle out as ears. He trusts that Dean will not do anything to make Sam wish to expel him, but he must be prepared if it should happen.

Dean tells Sam he’s been unconscious for the better part of two days, and then fills him in on the Strings of Fate when Sam falls silent to study his hand. Sam takes the news with grace. He mistrusts as easily as Dean, but it seems he is also much easier to give his trust to those he feels are deserving. And whoever his angel may be is surely deserving of trust. They are each other’s other halves, afterall. Sam does not speak this thought out loud, but ponders in silence. He does not wish to argue with Dean. Sam’s thoughts make Gadreel smile. 

That night when Sam falls asleep, Gadreel comes to him in his dreams. 

“Hello, Sam.” He has a choice to make. He does not wish to tell a lie to Sam, but he is not certain that he should tell his true name so quickly. And so when Sam asks who he is, he only states, “I am an Angel of the Lord. I am here to help cleanse you of the taint from the Trials. You need Angelic healing if you are to survive.”

Sam is at first skeptical. “Cas already tried. He said it was beyond his powers.”

Gadreel smiles. “Yes, it would have been. His time as a human has weakened him. He is not the powerful creature he once was. But I have never left Heaven— not until the Fall. I am injured, but I have no other outside factors diminishing my Grace. I am yet one with the Host, such as they are these days. Now, mind you, it will take some time. I cannot simply lay hands and have you back to yourself. But if you are amenable, I shall visit when you sleep until you are whole again.”

“Why would you want to help me when all the other Angels besides Cas have always been against us?”

Gadreel smiles again and holds up his hand. It is a dream and so the string connecting them was not at first visible to Sam. When Sam sees, his hazel eyes grow wide in awe. His thoughts all run together so quickly, Gadreel cannot follow them all. But he feels so many conflicting emotions from the man. Hopefulness and trepidation; amazement and fear.

“I do not expect you to fall in blindly with what I say. I will never dictate what you must do, or claim to have Holy orders to fit my own agendas. I seek only to help heal your wounds. And perhaps, in time, you will come to trust that I harbour no ill will.”

Sam simply nods his head, eyes still wide and mystified. Gadreel places his hand upon Sam’s head and heals what he can. The resistance is not as great, but even from within, Gadreel can still feel the mystical barrier in place from the Trials. It will take some time to turn the fissures into gaping canyons, spaces large enough to allow all of his Grace through. But for now, the small trickle of healing is enough.

Gadreel retreats and allows Sam to dream his own dreams for the remainder of the evening.

—-

He visits Sam frequently in this manner, slowly getting to know the young man that once was a part of himself. It has been ages since Gadreel has felt so complete. And he can sense the same realization in Sam. He allows Gadreel to continue to heal him and asks new questions with each dream visitation.

“Why does Dean’s string look so weak? It’s barely visible most of the time.” And the unspoken question, _is he connected to Michael?_

Gadreel shakes his head. “I do not know why. But I can only think that whoever he is connected to is very injured right now. I wish I could help in some way, but for now I am limited. It will be up to Dean to find them when he is ready.”

Sam has a look of concern on his face, and speaks to himself. “I don’t think he’ll ever be ready.” And then another thought comes to Sam. “So, why doesn’t my string trail off like Deans?”

Gadreel tries to think of a good way to explain it without letting Sam know he is being possessed. As close as they are becoming, it will not do to alarm the man.

“I am not currently on this plane in a way you can see me. So long as I remain where I am, the string will not be seen to lead anywhere. I can only visit in dreams for now.”

Sam seems to chew on that for a time before asking, “What does that mean? Not on this plane. You can’t be in Heaven. Heaven is closed.”

Gadreel shakes his head, sad that he cannot tell Sam the whole of it yet. “I cannot explain. Not yet. I only hope that you will learn to trust that I have only good intentions, regardless of where my Grace may lie in this moment.

Gadreel can hear Sam’s thoughts about that, and how he idly wonders if Gadreel is trapped in the cage. Gadreel does not respond to the thought but bids Sam a good evening then retreats yet again.

—-

Dean is pacing. He has been doing this since their return to the bunker. He keeps looking at the trail of his string and back to his hand. He is highly distracted and, in turn, makes Sam feel distracted. He can see Kevin becoming agitated too.

Every day Sam is feeling better and better and he feels it is high time they start working on a case, but Dean adamantly insists that Sam continue to rest, and so he is stuck researching ways to kill Abaddon with the prophet. 

“Dean! Will you sit down?” 

His brother gives him an embarrassed look, then slowly walks over and takes a chair next to Sam. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” His fingers tap wildly against an unopened book.

Sam feels bad for his brother. He doesn’t mention that he has had several dream conversations with his own Angel, not wanting to make Dean upset. But he really thinks that it will put Dean’s mind at ease to find out. “Do you want to go out and look? I’ll come with you.”

Dean looks contemplative for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just feeling a bit cooped up.”

Kevin pipes in. “Well, go beat some more information out of Crowley, then. I can’t focus with all your crazy energy!”

Dean’s phone buzzes in his pocket, a look of relief coming over his face. He has never been one to be comfortable at any sort of scrutiny.

“Heya Cas, where are you?

“How long?

“Oh. OK. Well hurry it up, we could use your help.”

Sam looks questioningly at his brother. They could use help? All they’ve been doing the last three days is sitting idle while Sam recovers and Dean slowly but surely goes mental. At least once their friend gets there, Dean might have some incentive to go out on a hunt, even if Sam is still trapped at the bunker. He just hopes Cas hurries. He has his own speculations as to where Dean’s string lies, and he is anxious to see if he is correct.

—-

Kevin and Sam both fall asleep with their heads in the research books while Dean rubs the tension out of his forehead with one hand, glass of whiskey held tight in the other. Gadreel takes the opportunity to speak with Dean.

He sits up with Sam’s body and makes eye contact with Dean, then motions for the man to follow him so they may talk freely and not wake Kevin. Dean follows him into the kitchen.

“Zeke?”

“Dean. You are very agitated. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Dean slams back the remaining liquid in his glass, then speaks hesitantly. “I was thinking about the whole Michael’s Sword thing. Y’know. Me and Sam being the perfect vessels for Michael and Lucifer… Well, it’s obvious Sam isn’t connected to that dick…” Dean makes a little relieved sound in the back of his throat, then heads to the fridge to grab a beer. It cracks open with a soft hiss of carbonation releasing into the air. He takes a long pull before he continues. “But, I can’t shake the feeling that this string is all wonky because it leads straight to the Cage.”

Gadreel places a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder which he shrugs off after a moment. Gadreel does not get offended by it. It seems that affection is a thing that Dean is uncomfortable with, and so Gadreel tries to soothe him with words.

“I can understand your trepidation in this manner, but I can assure you that you are not connected to Michael. After Lucifer was cast down, the three remaining Archangels were left whole. God chose to allow those first Celestials to hold their true power while the rest of the host was split. I believe he was planning to leave, heartbroken as he was over the whole rebellion, and so he ensured that there were still those whose loyalty never faltered to oversee the workings of Heaven.” 

Gadreel pauses as the words sink in to Dean, then continues after a moment. “You and your brother were born to be the perfect vessels for the Archangels, but only through a long series of events could that occur. Lineages throughout the aeons were manipulated through selective breeding, the Angelic Host nudging two individuals to fall in love when it would not occur naturally... I was not a part of that, but I could hear the whisperings of my brethren... And so you were born to be the Michael's sword, and Sam to be host of the Devil. Brother against brother, as it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end.”

The relief painted on Dean’s face at learning he is not connected to Michael slowly turns to righteous anger. He does not speak, but Gadreel can feel the emotions and thoughts rolling off of Dean— and not so much as rolling, but more violent, like some squall, hungry to devour a wayward fishing vessel. 

_We were used. We were played. Everything is a lie! There is no free will, so why do we bother._

Gadreel can feel Sam stirring and so he silently walks back to the library and lays his head back on the book Sam had fallen asleep on. He retreats back inside and can only hope that all will be well for the eldest Winchester.

  
  


—-

Castiel comes back to the bunker. Gadreel’s initial reaction is to retreat so far within Sam that no other Angel will detect his presence. He is not sure how well he will succeed. But he and Castiel were friends once, so if he is discovered, he can only hope that there will be no animosity.

Sam immediately rushes up from his spot at the table and embraces the Angel in a warm hug. Castiel is smiling and looks relieved to be there. The close proximity makes Gadreel nervous—Sam is not yet ready for him to be expelled.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Cas! Where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.”

They pull apart from the hug as Castiel says, “It’s a long story.” His eyes shift away from Sam’s face and back again, a look that says he knows something that he does not wish to impart to Sam. But before Sam can speak, Dean rounds the corner.

“Did I hear Cas?” Dean walks briskly up to the Angel, but before they can share a brotherly embrace, a red light flickers around Castiel’s hand. A light that leads a weak string directly to Dean. Dean stumbles back a bit, relief and abject terror warring across his face.

“Dean. We need to speak privately.” Castiel leaves the room; Dean shares a shocked look with Sam before he hesitantly follows behind. 

Sam sits back down at the table and waits patiently for them to finish. Kevin has been sulking in his room all day, and so Sam finds that he has nothing to do but continue to read. Finding a way to kill Abaddon is still a priority, and he does not relish another fruitless conversation with Crowley.

From within, Gadreel uses a part of his Grace to hear the conversation with Castiel and Dean… “Does this mean I have to be gay?” Gadreel can imagine the scowl on Castiel’s face and smiles. He has missed his brother.

“No, Dean. We’ll talk about that later. You said Ezekiel helped your brother?”

“Yeah, Cas. Why?”

“Ezekiel perished in the Fall. It could not have been him…”

Gadreel panics. If he is expelled from Sam too soon, the young man could still die and that is not something he is willing to accept. And so he takes over Sam’s body, gets up, and silently flees the bunker.

—-

He takes an old car from the garage and flees to Red Cloud, Nebraska. It is not a long drive, but it is far enough away that Gadreel feels that he should have enough time to speak with Sam before Dean and Castiel find him. There are several neighboring towns they could check, so with any luck, they will not follow him straight to Red Cloud.

He books a motel with one of Sam’s credit cards, then sits down on the chair near the window to begin the discussion. Gadreel reaches within and speaks directly to Sam’s mind.

“Hello, Sam.”

The dream-self image of Sam blinks confusedly at Gadreel. “Did I fall asleep?”

Gadreel smiles and shakes his head. “No, Sam.” He motions to a chair for Sam to sit, and the young man does, but not before giving Gadreel a skeptical look.

“If I’m not asleep, then how are we talking? You said we could only communicate while I’m dreaming.”

Gadreel sighs and focuses his eyes on the red glowing lights connecting their hands. “I must first tell you something. My name and my story.”

Sam furrows his brows, but nods his head. “OK, I’m listening.”

“Before the first Fallen were cast down to Hell, before the first fully evolved hominids were sent to Eden, all Angels were pure and wished only to serve God. There was no good nor evil yet, only Celestial Intent, which is the purest form of light. At least, at that time it was.” He looks up into Sam’s eyes and sees that the young man is listening carefully, and with an open heart. It makes it easier for Gadreel to continue.

“All Angels were close and loved one another, just as we all loved God’s creations. But some of us were closer than others. Even though we should love all things equally, there were those of us who formed closer connections. I became dear friends with several of my brethren, but my greatest friend was the one who I cherished above all others, even nearly as much as I cherished God and his creation. And my friend felt the same. We were inseparable. It made God smile to see such love and kinship among us.

But my friend grew jealous. He had been placed on a pedestal as the best of all Angels, of all of the Creations. But God decreed that the Humans were to be elevated, and he did not know what to do with his broken heart. I tried to console him, let him be lifted by God’s purpose, but he slowly drifted away from me and the rest of the devout Host.”

“Lucifer?” Sam asks hesitantly, his head tilted to the side. His hazel eyes bore into Gadreel with such intensity, that he is almost afraid to answer. He knows that Sam has had a rough past with Lucifer and has bore the brunt of his ill will. Such as Gadreel himself had.

  
  


“Yes. When he began to incite rebellion, I tried so hard to get him to see the error in what he was doing; that we had a perfect existence and that sowing hate and doubt within the Host could only lead to trouble. And so he turned from me and would not speak to me for many years.

“Until one day, he came to me under the guise of making amends. I had missed his friendship and so I welcomed him with open arms, even though I should not have. It was a trick. He knew my pure and simple heart, and knew I would always welcome my greatest friend. And so I was punished for his trickery. They all said I no longer loved God as I should and that I would only bow to temptation again in the future; that I could no longer be trusted. I was sent to be imprisoned for all eternity within Heaven’s barren cells. I was the first to be confined so.”

Sam looked confused. “Wait, you were imprisoned for getting tricked? But, you weren’t sent to Hell as a demon… You stayed in Heaven, right? So, it must not have been that bad?”

Gadreel does not know why he wasn’t sent to the pits with the rest of the Fallen, but he can speculate. He did not rebel and tells Sam as much.

“You see, I was the Angel who was assigned to look over the Garden. When Lucifer came to me, I invited him in. We sat and talked, and it was wonderful to hear him say that he no longer wished to rebel. When we embraced and he left, I felt my heart lighter than it had been in many years. But it was all a lie. He never left, and when I was not watching, he tempted the Humans into eating from the Tree of Knowledge.

“So yes. I was imprisoned for being tricked, since it was my fault that good and evil came to be in the hearts of men. And so humans were granted mortality and all things that come with it—self doubt, shame, anger and violence. There would be no more Paradise, no more blissful eternity for the humans, and I am to blame. But I did not rebel. My love for God and His creations never wavered, and so my punishment was to be confined in Heaven. I would never be evil, but I would never be allowed to interact with the Earth again.”

Sam is quiet for some time, contemplating the words Gadreel has spoken. He can hear his thoughts whirring around in his mind, but tries not to focus too much on them and instead waits for Sam to speak. 

“How long were you imprisoned?”

It is not the question Gadreel is expecting, but it is an easy one to answer. “For nearly three hundred thousand years.”

“And that’s how long Lucifer was in his cage?”

“Nearly. It took some time for the War to end and the rebels to be cast out. I listened from my cell but could do nothing but mourn the loss of my brothers. But now I am here and can atone for my sin. Perhaps I will be able to aid some of the newly Fallen.”

Sam is all too accepting of his story, and it makes Gadreel glad that he will not have to defend his actions to the man.

“OK, so. I can understand that. I’d do the same for my brother. Hell, I have—and worse… What does this all have to do with why we are chatting while I’m awake?”

“I wanted to let you know who I truly was first— let you hear my whole story— before you make your next decision.”

“And what decision is that?”

“Whether or not you wish to let me in.”

Sam blinks at him. “Let you in? What do you mean? I already have…”

It is Gadreel’s turn to blink at Sam. Is he already aware of the situation? He must be… “Then you already know?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah. I suspected. You came to me every night, and now you’re here. In my head. And I’m not dreaming. My question for you, though: How? I’ve never seen you before my dreams.”

Gadreel touches his hand to Sam’s forehead and lets him see the desperation of the situation— Dean’s desperation— and that his death would have been too great a loss for Gadreel and his brother to bear.

Sam looks down to his clasped hands, a great sadness rolling off of him. He and his brother have always done foolish things for one another. But this? Dean tricked him into being possessed. And while Sam does not mind the Angel who has chosen to inhabit his body—and is indeed grateful for his presence— he still feels an overwhelming sense of betrayal and anger.

Sam looks back up into Gadreels eyes. “You can stay. I understand why Dean did what he did. And I thank you for your assistance.” His voice is tight, and Gadreel knows there is an unspoken bitterness to his words, but despite that, he is still relieved that he will live to fight another day.

“What’s your name, Angel?”

Gadreel smiles and tells him.

—-

It does not take long for Dean and Cas to catch up. It seems Red Cloud was one of their first stops in the hunt for Sam, for they show up at the motel room two hours later.

Dean pounds on the door and yells for Sam to open. Gadreel gives full control back to Sam with a silent adieu, then Sam stands to open the door. 

Dean barges in, an angel blade in his hand and pointed at Sam’s throat. Castiel follows silently behind him.

“Who are you?” Dean shouts at Sam as he grips his collar and gives him a threatening shake, the blade digging into the soft skin of Sam’s neck.

Sam grabs Dean's hands and tries to calm him. “Dean, it’s me. It’s Sam. Just put the blade down.”

Dean glances to Cas who has circled around to the side of where the brothers are engaged. Cas shrugs, then says, “I don’t have my Grace. I can’t tell for sure, but I can’t sense another Angel right now.”

“Why’d you run off when Cas came back, Sam?” Dean gives him a steely gaze that, while once intimidated him to no end, does nothing but make him give a hard look of his own.

But he isn’t sure how to explain. He wasn’t the one who ran off. “I… So, I was talking to someone. To an Angel.”

Sam tells Dean and Cas the whole story—everything the he and Gadreel had spoken of in both his dreams and in the motel. “I know why you’re upset, but I also know what’s at stake—and I know what it would do to you if I let myself die. So, Gadreel is staying put until I’m strong enough to live without him. And even then, I’d like him to stick around. Just in a different body.”

Dean looks both pissed and resigned. He knows as well as anyone what it would do to him if Sam should die. But he doesn’t have to like the situation. And Castiel is unusually quiet. He has always been one to share his opinion whether it’s wanted or not, and Sam can only wonder what’s going through his head—and if Dean has any inclinations to his thoughts.

—-

Dean and Cas are still wary after a couple weeks go by, but Gadreel hasn’t done anything suspicious, so they keep quiet. At least they think they do. Sam can hear them talking when they think he’s not listening. Dean makes arguments that Sam is fine and doesn’t need Gadreel, but Cas is always there to calm him down, saying, “Yes, Gadreel was a good and loyal Angel when I knew him. And not loyal to the Archangels, but to God. He has made far fewer mistakes than any other of the Host. Far fewer than you or I. Give him a chance to prove himself.” And so Dean inevitably relents.

  
  


But later that week Gadreel declares that Sam should be healthy enough to survive with only external healing. Sam is both relieved—for Dean’s sake—and feels a sense of great loss. He knows that it will be for the best if he can get to know Gadreel face to face rather than inside his own head—he has dealt too much with other people in his head. They all have. 

When Gadreel leaves his body in a brilliant show of lights, Sam instantly feels weak and falls to his knees, watching wearily as Gadreel disappears—a solid red string of light leading away from Sam’s fingers, growing longer and longer the farther Gadreel goes—and can only hope that he returns with a vessel soon.

—-

Gadreel expands his Grace and searches out his first vessel after the Fall. He is not far. The man is tending bar in a small town outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. Gadreel goes to him and explains the situation and the man agrees with an open heart to take Gadreel back inside him, to serve as a vessel to the Divine.

It is an 8 hour journey in total for Gadreel to find his vessel and return to the bunker. When he enters, the atmosphere is tense and Gadreel can tell that arguments were had while he was out. Dean is a bundle of raw nerves, Castiel is silent and contemplative, but Sam is there with a wide smile that lights up his face.

“Welcome home, Gadreel.”

Dean makes a frustrated noise and leaves the room in a huff, and Castiel follows shortly after, but not before he gives an eyeroll to Dean’s retreating back. But Gadreel cannot pay close attention to that. It is what Sam said. While the bunker is not Gadreel’s home—not his True home, and surely never will be— Sam is willing to let him in, to try and make a new start of his life on Earth. And Gadreel wants nothing more than to make it work. 

When Dean finally cools down and Castiel is able to draw him back to the library, they all sit down and have a discussion.

“Look Gadreel—if that’s even your real name—I don’t trust you. But Sam wants you here, so you stay. For now. But I’m keeping a close eye on you.” Dean looks undeniably upset, but at least he is willing to give him a chance. 

“Dean,” Castiel chimes in. Gadreel hasn’t heard him speak much since he first arrived to join them at the bunker, and so he is curious as to what his brother has to say on the matter. “He was afraid you wouldn’t let him help if you knew his True name. His only sin was to not blindly follow orders—to want to see the good in his brethren. Let him see the good in you, too.”

Dean falls silent and shares a long, questioning look with Castiel. Gadreel looks away—for it is not his place to pry into their thoughts— and over to Sam, who sits beside him, and sees the hope in his eyes. Sam reaches over and clasps Gadreel’s hand in reassurance and that makes Gadreel smile in return.

Gadreel thinks that it is time to start earning his atonement and so breaks the silence. All eyes turn to him as he speaks words that everyone wishes to hear. “I believe I know how to kill Abaddon. It will not be an easy task, but I believe it is something we can accomplish.”

Sam smiles, Castiel tilts his head, and Dean lifts his eyebrows. It is a start that he has their attention and that they are all willing to hear him out. And so he tells the tale of a cursed brother--the first man to do murder upon another human-- a man who has walked the Earth for nearly three hundred thousand years; a man named Cain and the First Blade he wields-- a blade that is said to be able to kill anything in God’s creation.

And so the discussion begins and a plan unfurls.


End file.
